


The Day That Night Will Fall, is the Night That we Rejoice

by God_Help_Me



Category: Alexander Hamilton - Ron Chernow, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bisexual Alexander Hamilton, Bisexual Thomas Jefferson, Break Up, Canonical Character Death, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, F/M, First Meetings, Historical Accuracy, Historical References, Hurt Alexander Hamilton, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Kidnapping, M/M, Major character death - Freeform, Meet-Cute, Multi, Musical Appearences, No happiness here kiddos, One Shot Collection, POV Third Person, Prostitution, Reunions, Sad and Sweet, Schuylkill River Mission, Short & Sweet, Sort Of, Waiting, historical appearences, implied/referenced trauma, kinda of, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-12
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:00:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 5,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24152449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/God_Help_Me/pseuds/God_Help_Me
Summary: Day eleven - LamsThe leaves had stopped, so had the tears.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton & Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton & George Washington, Alexander Hamilton & Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette, Alexander Hamilton & Martha Washington, Alexander Hamilton & Thomas Jefferson, Alexander Hamilton/Elizabeth "Eliza" Schuyler, Alexander Hamilton/George Washington, Alexander Hamilton/Gilbert du Motier Marquis de Lafayette, Alexander Hamilton/Thomas Jefferson, Dolley Madison & James Madison, Dolley Madison/James Madison, George Washington/Martha Washington, Thomas Jefferson & James Madison, Thomas Jefferson/James Madison, Thomas Jefferson/Sally Hemmings (Implied), past Alexander Hamilton/John Laurens - Relationship
Comments: 9
Kudos: 105





	1. The Past Burns as Bright as Today

There was a flash, the building shaking the slightest amount at the rumbling of thunder. The candles that were lighting the room began to flicker, the flames still glowing - although a bit weaker then they had before. The president had paused briefly, continuing his train of thought when he was sure the thunder had passed. 

The other members of the Cabinet chimed in when they felt it was necessary, or when they were asked. Thomas stayed quiet throughout most of it, Alexander had yet to start a fight with him (which came as a bit of a disappointment, he enjoyed the usual meaningless arguments they had), making the day all the more quiet.

“Hamilton, your thoughts?” The Presidents’ question was met with silence, Thomas looked over to the younger, leaning back in his chair to see past Washington “Hamilton?” Violet eyes looked towards the President, his brows were furrowed the slightest bit, lips parted the slightest amount. The room had gone quiet, everyone focusing on the youngest.

“I-” He cut himself off, hands coming up to cover his mouth. His frame shook the slightest amount, (on someone like Thomas it wouldn’t be noticable, but Alexander always seemed to be malnourished no matter how much food he was given). His eyes became glossy, tears spilling down, the violet of his eyes seemed to be more prominent when he was like this.

“Alexander, are you with us?” Henrys’ voice was soft, he was leaning towards Hamilton. he didn’t get a response, the loudest thing in the room was Hamilton’s soft panting. The smaller red-head brought his knees to his chest, wrapping his arms around them as he buried his head in them.

Washington shifted, moving closer to Alexander. “I’m, I’m sorry, Your Excellency.” The words were muffled by his arms, but they made the President pause none-the-less.

Thomas watched as Washington kneeled in front of Alexander, bringing his hands up to rest on the youngers’ arms. “Soldier, look at me.” His voice was cold, there was no familiarity in it, and it got Alexander to listen. He lifted his head, looking the ex-general in the eyes. Thomas’ eyes widened the slightest amount as he took in the appearance of his rival.

Violet iris’ were made even more prominent by the slight red surrounding them, tears leaving streaks through the makeup, revealing the countless amount of freckles. His hair was slightly mussed, bits of it falling into his face. Alexander swallowed, biting his bottom lip. Looking at the smaller felt unreal, Alexander didn’t look like he was real.

“You’re not suited to be in this meeting right now, are you?” Alexander broke eye-contact, looking down as he shook his head. Washington's voice got softer, “That’s okay, Mr. Jefferson will help you to your office. Alright?” Alexander shook his head, saying nothing.

Washington looked towards Thomas, then back at Alexander, saying nothing in the brief exchange. Thomas got up, moving to the other side of Alexander, taking one of his arms and gently pulling. Violet eyes looked to Washington, then back up to Thomas. The taller pulled on his arm again, this time Alexander rose without any complaint.

Thomas didn’t let go of the blue sleeved arm, walking by Alexander's side until the gazes’ of the Cabinet had left their backs, choosing to throw an arm around the smallers’ shoulders. “You don’t have to-” Alexander was the one who broke the silence, taking in a shaky breath. “You don’t have to take me to my office.”

Thomas looked down at the freckled one, “I know.” Before ducking into his own office, Alexander still with him. The younger looked to Thomas, confusing decorating his features as he was led to a window seat. “My office was closer.” Was his only explanation as he sat Alexander down between his legs.

Rain was still falling, Thomas said nothing as Alexander let out a shaky breath and buried his head into the tallers' chest.

Thomas let out a breath when he heard the youngers breathing even out, he would be okay.


	2. The Flame of our Story Dies as Another is Lit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander let out a shaky breath, “Betsy.” His voice was thin, putting a hand on the sleeved arm as his face crumpled. “He’s gone. My Jack is gone.”

‘Poor Laurens; he has fallen a sacrifice to his ardor in a trifling skirmish in South Carolina. You know how truly I loved him and will judge how much I regret him.’ Alexander put the quill down, re-reading the words, over and over again until they finally managed to register in his mind, he didn’t want to accept the fact Laurens was dead. But Gilbert deserved to know of his passing.

The redhead clenched his fists, the parchment crinkling in his grip. He didn’t remember who told him of Laurens’ death, all he remembers is having to write others in consolation. But he didn’t understand why he didn’t learn of this sooner, he didn’t understand why John didn’t take up his offer to come back to New York with him, they could have been happy together, but they can’t be anymore.

Not when his Jack is dead.

His eyes stung, the candle beginning to die. The door to his office opened, the comforting aroma of his wife following. “Alexander, come to bed.” Was all she said, dark eyes searching his face. Eliza walked over to him, looking over his shoulder to the letter still clutched in his hands. There was a sharp intake of breath behind him, warm arms wrapping around his neck.

Alexander let out a shaky breath, “Betsy.” His voice was thin, putting a hand on the sleeved arm as his face crumpled. “He’s gone. My Jack is _gone_.” A hand lifted his chin so that he was facing Eliza, her eyebrows furrowed the slightest bit as her mouth set in a grim line. 

“I know, I know.” Was all she said, pulling him forward so his head rested on her shoulder. One of his arms came up to grip her other arm, sobs finally making themselves known. He felt a hand place itself in his hair, gently stroking his head as if he was a child. “Lets go to bed, you need rest.”

He didn’t object, letting himself be led through the hall and into their shared room. He felt his coat being taken off, as well as his cravat. Nothing felt real, he didn’t feel like he was there. The redhead was dimly aware of a cloth wiping the makeup off of his face, he registered the sound of Betsy’s voice as she spoke, but didn’t register what the voice was saying.

He laid down on the bed, curling up on top of the covers. A warm body laid itself next to him, hands pulling him close, a voice sweet of honey whispering reassurances into his ears. He clutched at the fabric on her chest, his eyes shutting as he began to shake. “Betsy, I-” He cut himself off, taking a shaky breath as he reopened his eyes to look into her dark ones.

“Thank you.” Was all he said, a watery smile making its way onto his face.

“Of course, my love.” He moved closer to her, wishing away thoughts of John as he began to drift, eyes slowly going out of focus.

He missed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _casually writes short ass chapters because I can't write long things for some reason_


	3. Deciet and Lies can be Uncovered by a Shaky Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "James, c’mon, you know I wouldn’t lie to you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning: Mentions of rape/non-con

“Don’t. Don’t you fucking dare, Thomas.” James pushed the taller away, his chest feeling fuzzy as he looked towards his lover, “Don’t lie to me.” His voice was shaky, making it less intimidating then he had wanted it to be.

“Jemmy, James, c’mon, you _know_ I wouldn’t lie to you. I didn’t sleep with Sally, _please_ don’t go.” Thomas’ voice broke, eyes beginning to water as he stared at the smaller of the two. James inhaled sharply, closing his eyes as his fists clenched as he recalled the call with Sally.

_(“Sally? What’s wrong?” The younger girls breathing was frantic, on the verge of hyperventilating._

_“I’m sorry- I’m so sorry, I didn’t, I didn’t want him.” The words came out in a rush, Sally’s voice cracking at various points as her words were drowned out by her tears._

_James sucked in a breath, eyes slightly widening as her words registered in his mind. “Who?” A sob came from the other end, James wincing slightly at the sound of it._

_“Thomas.”)_

“I know you Thomas, do you really think that you can lie to me?” His voice began to grow cold, less vulnerable then it was before, not looking at the other as he spoke. “You did, you cheated on me with Sally, and she didn’t even _want_ to sleep with you.” He risked a glance up at Thomas, a small sense of pride filling him when he saw Thomas’ face contort into a scowl - however brief it was - before returning back to how it was.

“No, I wouldn’t do that Jemmy, we’ve been married for the past four years, why would I throw that away?” He could hear the desperation lacing Thomas’ voice, a twinge of guilt burned in him until he doused the flame, focusing on the fact that Thomas had, had raped a thirteen year-old girl.

“Sally told me, she called me in tears crying about what you did to her. Do you not understand how fucked up that is? To force someone who is barely a teenage to have, have sex- no, it wasn’t even sex, it was you fucking a _child_.” He balled his fists up, walking towards the taller, punching him in the gut to make him double over.

Thomas looked up, _something_ was written on his face, James wasn’t sure whether it was betrayal, or surprise, or disgust. It was just a mess, Thomas was a mess. But he didn’t deserve pity, not after what he did.

_(“He- he what?” James’ voice was quiet, barely audible for the other side to hear._

_“I’m sorry, I’m sorry I just- I told him to stop and I tried fighting but he just didn’t and it hurts because I don’t want to-” She cut herself off, a sob bubbling in her throat. James didn’t say anything, his tongue felt too heavy to do so. “I don’t wanna have his baby.”)_

“I don’t want to see anyway except behind bars, Thomas. Take your stupid ring, take your stupid vows, take your stupid stuff and get out of my house.” Thomas straightened up, mouth opening and closing before he found what to say.

“James-”

“No. Get out. Get out get out get out get out gET OUT!” As much as James hated to admit, he started to shake, bowing his head as tears flowed down his face, hands coming up to cover his mouth. He heard Thomas’ footsteps running to pack, he heard the door slamming behind him as the taller left.

Jame crumpled to the floor, sobs finally surfacing. He stayed there until his tears had dried up, leaving his face feeling blotchy. He grabbed his phone, dialing a number, having to wait only a few seconds before someone picked up, he took a shaky breath.

“9-1-1, what's your emergency?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I stuck to what happened in history.


	4. He Suffered Beautifully

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “He’s Washington's boy, Miller, I would imagine that the general would do anything to get this one back. Or at least, that’s what the rumors say.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning for Death and Kidnapping

A horse could be heard running through the thick forest, the sound of the stream almost drowning it out. Shouts emerged from the growth, the voices chasing after the animal and it’s rider, violet eyes glancing around for any means of escape.

A shot was fired, the two going down. Alexander hit the ground, rolling away from the fallen body of the horse before pushing himself to his feet. The footsteps of the Regulars became more prominent the closer they got to him, his breathing picked up, his body sore from taking the impact. The boy looked towards an opening between two trees, sure that he could make it through despite it being narrow.

He heard a yell a few yards behind him, running towards the opening before they could get to him, grabbing the papers he had been carrying in the saddle pockets on his way. The redhead managed to squeeze through, doubling over to catch his breath, relief flooding him.

Alexander stood upright, continuing through the woods, stopping by the rushing stream to get a drink. Cold metal was placed on the right side of his head, his eyes widening as he saw the red coat of a Regular. “You’ll be coming with me.” Was all the man said before he yanked the smaller up, putting him in front as he kept the gun to the head.

They walked until a camp came into view, the men decorated in red coats. “I’ve brought a gift.” The man had announced, drawing the attention of his comrades, their eyes drifting towards Alexander. 

“What use is he? He’s nothing more than a boy, a secretary at best.” The comment made Alexander bristle, shooting a glare to the man who had spoken.

“He’s Washington's boy, Miller, I would imagine that the general would do anything to get this one back. Or at least, that’s what the rumors say.” The response brought a smile out of Miller (Alexander didn’t like how the smile looked, Miller having a glint in his eyes, it scared him).

“Nice catch then, Davis.”

-

A leaf fell on a boot, the crumpling of paper being the loudest thing in the clearing. A slight breeze blew, rustling the generals’ auburn hair. His throat felt dry and swollen, his breathing picking up as he re-read the contents of the letter over and over again.

The parchment was small, like it was ripped from something else, patterned shadows danced across Georges’ head, sunlight peeking through the canopy of leaves and shining on his tear-stained face. He let out a shaky breath, dropping the paper as he fell to his knees, hands coming together as he prayed for his love.

It was _his_ fault that Alexander was captured, he could have asked an actual messenger rather than Alexander to deliver the letter, if he did then the fiery young man would still be here. Safe in his harms, away from any risk of death that could have lurked in British captivity.

He just wanted Alexander back.

_(You didn’t pay, Alexander Dearest had paid the consequences._

_If it’s any consolation, General Washington, he suffered beautifully)_


	5. w h o o p s

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> biggest rip

me: how the kentucky fried f u c k do i write a chapter for hercules and burr

also me: _doesn't write chapter five at all_


	6. The Stars Align One Last Time, in Order For us to See

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Alexander Hamilton, a pleasure to meet you.”

Light footsteps could be heard on the dirt, the crunch of leaves following the sound every once in a while, the river was running, it didn’t fit in the time of war John found himself in. He fidgeted with his fingers, the walk towards the Valley Forge unnerving him the slightest bit.

There were a few men he had passed on the way, he assumed they were messengers given their pace and attire. There were voices as he grew closer to the camp, two guards posted at the gate of the fence, one of them holding up a hand to him, the blond stopping in front of the pair.

“What’s your name?” The one to the right asked, eyes meeting his.

“Laurens, John Laurens.” At the raise of an eyebrow, he scrambled to find the letter, handing it to him when he found it. “The General sent for me.” The guards looked it over, deeming it acceptable, nodding at him and letting him through.

He made his way through the land, only now realizing that he had no clue where to go, looking around for anyone who seemed to know the layout well. His eyes settled on a boy (girl? He wasn’t sure, the persons’ frame looked feminine, but a woman couldn’t fight in a war.) with hair of fire, seeming to know what to do. He approached the stranger, tapping the shoulder of the smaller and watching him turn around.

“Do you know where the Generals’ tent is?” He avoided eye contact with the other, not wanting to meet pretty violet eyes. The red-head sighed, one of his hands falling on his hip.

“The largest tent belongs to His Excellency, keep walking until you see it.” The smaller of the two looked away, back at the papers in his other hand, moving to continue on his path.

“Wait,” John met his eyes for the first time, licking his lips subconsciously when they grew dry. “What’s your name?”  
The stranger smiled the slightest bit, just a slight upturn of pink lips, “Alexander Hamilton, a pleasure to meet you.”

John swallowed, his throat feeling dry. “John Laurens, and the pleasure is all mine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the shortest chapter yet bc im inconsitent with everything


	7. Dusk Fades into Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alexander was gone, and he was still here
> 
> (Based on the Schuylkill River Mission)

“Lieutenant Colonel Hamilton- he died during the expedition to destroy the Schuylkill River flour mill.” The news was delivered by Captain Henry Lee, sitting on a log next to the fire, blood splattered on his clothing.

Lafayette didn’t register what was said afterwards. His ears were ringing, how could Alexander- his fierce little lion, be gone? They were together this morning, Alexander promised that he would be back.

_(“Mon amour, are you sure that you will be okay?” The two stood inside the Major Generals’ tent, the taller cupping the violet-eyed boys cheek._

_“Gilbert, I promise that I will make it back to you. It appears that you have forgotten that I have led battalions into battle before I joined His Excellencys’ staff.” The smaller moved forward, wrapping small arms around a broad chest; resting his head on Gilberts’ shoulder._

_Alexander sighed in content when he felt arms encase him. Glancing up at his lover when he chuckled. “Tu es très petit.”)_

He was standing in his tent, glancing around as if in a trance. He was here this morning, Alexander was here this morning. They were standing together, the sun managed to peek through the flaps and illuminated his little lions’ frame. What happened?

Alexander said that he had lead battalions before joining his beloved general, he said that he would come back. But he didn’t, he lied, and now he’s gone.

Oh.

_Oh God, he is gone._

Gilbert felt himself sit on the cot, he felt the tears run down his face, he felt his own arms coming up to cradle himself. Alexander- who was too stubborn to let himself be killed by whatever horrors lay on the island he wrote himself off of, had died. He was gone, just like his parents. His body would never be recovered would it? He would never have a legacy to carry on, his worst fear would come true because he was too proud to decline the mission. He would be forgotten when Gilbert would have the chance to be remembered.

That- why did that thought hurt?

Gilbert didn’t know why, but it did. It hurt so much and he couldn’t explain why it did.

He bit his lip, he didn’t want to make any noise, he didn’t want to be loud. That was what Alexander did. He was loud, he made noise, and that was something that he loved about the beautiful lion, he didn’t want to take that away from his lover when he had already taken away so much.

But it was _too much._

He fell onto his side, putting a hand up to his mouth to attempt and and mask the noise he was making. He could hear his comrades singing, he could hear some of them crying, and he let himself go. Loud, painful, sobs spilled from the boy of twenty years, he hoped that he couldn’t be heard

(But with his luck, he probably was, that’s just another thing he took from his love)

He cried, he cried for the first time in seven years, for the first time since his parents had died. And- it felt good. It felt good to get it out. He didn’t know how to feel about that fact either, Alexander was dead and he felt good.

What was wrong with him?

His eyes stung, he was tired, really tired. But he was cold, he wanted his parents, he wanted his Alexander, he would even settle for Adrienne. He just didn’t want to be cold anymore.

* * *

He rose to someone shaking him awake (Tilghman, his mind registered), he heard him saying something about the general summoning him, he nodded in response. Tilghman bit his lip, Gilbert didn’t know why, but he bowed his head none-the-less and left him.

He didn’t remember much about the walk to the general's tent, he thought he saw Laurens, he briefly wondered if he should talk to him- Alexander and him were fairly close. But he abandoned that train of thought, he had already stolen from Alexander. He didn’t need to steal his friend as well.

The generals tent loomed over him, he took a breath, and lifted the flap.

His general was saying something, but Gilbert had his eyes trained on the man on standing on his right. Alexander was there, he was alive, he was breathing, he didn’t break his promise-

“Gilbert, ça va?” His voice, it was him. Gilbert fell to his knees, a hand coming up to cover his mouth. The general was moving, saying something that didn’t reach his ears. But he didn’t didn’t care, he didn’t because Alexander was alive.

His beautiful, strong, stubborn, Alexander was _alive_.

And he was happy.

He felt hands tilting his chin upwards, he felt tears slide down his face. He had dropped his hands, he was smiling. He was smiling because he was staring into bright, violet eyes that he never thought he would see again.

He didn’t hear what Alexander was saying, he was content to listen to his voice, he was content to count the infinite amount of freckles that were strewn across his lover’s face. He surged forwards, capturing Alexanders lips with his.

It felt good.

He felt Alexander kiss back, he wrapped his hands around his waist and pulled him onto his lap. They pulled apart, Alexanders cheeks were tinted in pink and it was adorable. Every bit of him was beautiful and Gilbert would be damned if he let anything happen to him ever again.

“Je t’aime. Je t’aime. Je t’aime.” Gilbert punctuated every word with a kiss, bringing a smile out of Alexander.

“Je t’aime aussi, Gilbert.”

They were going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> did i shamelessly re-use something i had already written bc i cant focus on writing? y e s
> 
> Tu es très petit. - You are very small  
> Gilbert, ça va? - Gilbert, are you okay?  
> Je t’aime. Je t’aime. Je t’aime - I love you. I love you. I love you  
> Je t’aime aussi - I love you to


	8. Why is There a Child on the Battlefield

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They needed to steal supplies, Alexander was strangley good at it.

“Hello Mrs. Washington, did you want to talk with His Excellency?” Martha smiled at the redhead, fondness overcoming her. George had often spoke of the boy whenever he wrote to her, mainly about how he and his friends seemed to lack a self-preservation instinct. Although even in written form, his words managed to be laced with affection when talking about the trio.

“No, I have been wanting to speak with you, though.” Alexanders’ eyes widened the slightest bit, his smile faltering before he was beaming at her again.

“Oh, do you want to go somewhere else to talk?” Martha shook her head, beginning to walk through the camp, the younger scurrying after her. They walked in silence, leaving footsteps in the snow as they went.

“George often speaks of you.” The boy glanced at her, red dusting his cheeks. Although, whether it was from embarrassment or the cold was up for debate. “I must ask, though, when did you become so efficient at thievery?” She heard the boy suck in a breath.

“I didn’t have a lot of money as a child.” Was all he said, at the raise of an eyebrow, he continued to speak. "I'm not proud of it, but it's often needed, a lot of merchants only take British money. I can get supplies other ways, but those don't always work."

"What ways?"

Alexander sighed, leaning against a fence post. "I've been told I'm charismatic, so I use the fact to my advantage." 

"Oh really."

A tongue clicked. "I _may_ promise sexual acts in exchange." The admission was quick, as well as quiet. Martha blinked at the boy (becuase thats what he was, a child.) Alexander didn't look at her, his violet gaze locked onto a tree in front of him.

"Aren't you a bit, young, to be doing such a thing?" The redhead looked to her, a mix of a sigh and a laugh leaving him.

"Where I'm from, I'm beginning fairly late." The statement made Martha's mouth go dry, she knew that children often got involved in unsavory things, but hearing it come from someone who wasn't even in his twenties yet threw her off.

"I must be off, it was a pleasure speaking with you, Mrs. Washington." He pushed off the post, a hand raising in the air as a goodbye before he disappeared into the crowd of soldiers.

She needed to talk to George.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's short, and badly written, and late, sorry.
> 
> If any of you have been wondering where the fuck I've been, for one, thank you, that's sweet. But a friend of mine isn't here anymore, so I've been dealing with that. I felt like I should get out another chapter though, I'm sorry for the shitty quality.


	9. The Clock Slows in Time for us to Meet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Waiting was such a slow thing to do, but maybe this once, it would be worth it.

She was always waiting, most of the time she didn’t know what for. She just knew that whatever it was was worth waiting for, it had to be.

It had to be because it had been too long a wait for something she wasn’t aware of.

She had thought it had been the death or her beloved, as well as the death of her son. But, alas, it hadn’t been the thing she had awaited. 

She didn’t want to wait any longer, she wanted to feel complete for the first time in her life. She didn’t want to wait another 26 years for it to happen. Someone bumped into her, making her look down at the man. He smiled apologetically at her, holding out his hand.

“Apologies for that, I was captured in my thoughts. I fear that is something I am prone to doing as of late.” He chuckled, hand grasping hers. “James Madison, may I ask who you may be?”

She swallowed, a faint blush alighting her cheeks. “Dolley Payne. A pleasure to meet your acquaintance Mr. Madison.” 

She didn’t have to wait anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is short, but sweet. Which is something rare for me to do. Definetly not the best thing to come back with, but it's all I could really think of.
> 
> Here's my discord server, where I am known to talk about _stuff_ and _things_.  
> https://discord.gg/Kkcyfmg


	10. The Leaves Were Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John had always loved red.

The leaves were falling.

The sound of footsteps could be heard throughout the forest, the slight crunch of the dried leaves littered across the grass almost yelling. The long faded sound of laughter seemingly echoing through the trees as the footsteps sprinted past, chasing the last remaints of a Summer that had passed.

The steps slowed to a halt at the base of a tree, his head tilting to look up at the aged house still nestled in it’s branches. He ran a hand across the splintered wood of the ladder, the previous hastiness forgotten as he traced the grooves left in the wood. He closed his hand around one of the planks, hoisting himself up the ladder towards the trap door.

The boards creaked under his feet as he stood facing the window, turning to look around the small abode. His eyes widened, memories of days spent in the forest forgotten as he looked at the red staining the floor, seeping into the worn rug.

And there was red, and red and red and red and _red_. As fast as time moved while he sprinted through the forest, it did nothing but slow to a stop as his eyes met the empty ones on the floor.

He felt his legs give out, falling onto the floor just to be met with more red seeping into his jeans. A gust of wind blew through the window, on it rode a leaf as red as his hair. It drifted down to the out-stretched hand stained with red. He lifted a shaky hand, covering the leaf with his palm and tried not to pull back at the coldness of the others’ fingertips.

He doubled over, his grip on the hand (cold, cold, cold dead hand) tightening as sobs tore their way out of his throat. Whispering _“John”_ over and over, as though it was the only word left in the world. He curled his free hand on John's chest, clutching desperately at the fabric as though it would help bring him back.

* * *

The Sun shone, the Sun didn’t despair. Bright rays pierced through the overhead greenery, coming in through the window highlighting the reds and yellows of the leaves hanging from the branches, highlighting the red that marred the floor. The Sun didn’t despair. Choosing to relish in the tortured whispers uttered into a cold chest.

The leaves danced in the wind, celebrating the light gone from clear blue eyes. The birds rejoiced, singing a tune to which the trees swayed to, much to joyus of a song to be sung above the cold body laid on the floor.

* * *

The last of the leaves were falling.

The breeze carrying them on it’s back, drifting towards the stone that he stood over, gaze locked on the bright picture that leaned against the marked Earth. Dead flowers surrounded the stone, it had been long since anyone had come to visit.

He layed the letter down in front of the picture, eyes attempting to avoid the frame yet strayed to look at it. Johnk had his arms wrapped around his waist, both had bright smiles that seemed so real. John's wasn’t real, though, was it? There was a leaf in his hair, the yellow standing out among the red.

John loved red, he loved the fall, he loved the curls in his hair, but he didn't love _him_ , did he?

No.

No, John loved him, right?

No.

Yes.

He doesn't know, he doesn't know anything anymore.

He took a breath, pushing himself up and away from the grave. He turned to leave, a red leaf landing on the top the stone, he swallowed, eyes beginning to sting as he walked away.

The leaves were falling when John left.

They would fall when he left, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Realizes I haven't done anything with s*icide* 
> 
> TimE t0 fIX tHIs


	11. The Dead Don’t Cry

There was a breeze.

It was gently blowing on the grass, as green as the leaves that are glued to the branches above. There was a faint sound of chirping birds, the song finally finding place among the slight ruffle of clothing. 

He opened his eyes, finding his head laying on John’s chest, it was warm. He lifted his head, smiling as he found hooded eyes looking back at him. 

“I’m dead.” He said, not a question, yet not a statement.

“You are,” John replied, tone as soft as the moss by the stream. “As am I.”

He felt himself swallow, gripping the fabric beneath his fingers the slightest bit tighter, afraid to hold on and afraid to let go. 

“Are you real?” He felt his eyes sting, yet there were no tears. _The dead don’t cry_ , his mother had said once before, as she looked out the frosted window. “Or are you me?”

John sighed, propping himself up on his elbows. Alexander watched as his hand fell from the warm chest onto the grass, tears yearning to break free from their confines, but they didn’t. _The dead don’t cry_. A hand pushed his chin up, forcing him to face the blues _(clear, John’s eyes were clear once more)_ of the others’ eyes.

“I’m real, Alexander” He felt himself laugh, tipping forward so his head was buried in John’s chest. _His_ John, _his_ John was real and here and seemed so alive. A warm hand placed itself on the small of his back, tipping both of them down into the green grass. 

The Sun shone down, the red of his hair being highlighted didn’t bother him as much anymore. Jack loved red, and John was here. Surrounded by the green and blues of the nature that bordered them, no red to be found on the ground.

The leaves had fallen, but now they were back on the branches of the trees.

The leaves had stopped, so had the tears.


End file.
